THE GOLDEN ROSE Alexandra Amick
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‘No such thing as mermaids,’ says you?
You’re too young to know better, says I.
No, no, listen here, lad. I know you and yer like, coming here, still thinking this inn on this island is a grand pitstop from one voyage to another, and not a god-forsaken place between one monster and the next.
Don’t misunderstand, now, I was like you once, had that twinkle in me eyes. But mark me words, there comes a time in every seafarer’s life when that light dulls, that spark replaced with flint.
No mermaids, you say. Har! I’ll tell you of mermaids, and how any lad like yerself best be praying you never come across one.
I was just about yer age, me cheeks still pink, no leather to them. I was a mere powder monkey aboard the beautiful Golden Rose. And what a
